Instead he picked up one of her hands. “Your wrists are so tiny—but I know they’re strong,” he murmured. “And your fingers...so long and graceful.”
As he spoke, he began to kiss each fingertip in turn, and then his tongue flicked out to taste the same territory. He couldn’t resist tracing the outline of each ivory finger. And he felt her shiver slightly in reaction.
Was she slowly melting, or was the shiver one of apprehension?
His tongue found her wrist. He could feel her pulse quicken. When he drew back slightly, she pressed forward to increase the contact.
“That’s nice,” she whispered.
His heart leapt at the small victory. “I’d like you to return the favor.”
They both knew that the request was more than casual lover’s talk. She had admitted her fears of initiating anything.
Now, however, she took his hand and raised it to her lips. As he had done, she traced his fingertips with her tongue. His index finger slipped gently inside her mouth to caress the insides of her lips. He held his breath, but she didn’t reject the entry. Instead, she softly nibbled at the finger with her teeth.
“That’s nice, too,” he encouraged, his breath warm against her ear. A wave of awareness shivered through her.
With his free hand he grazed a butterfly-light caress along the underside of her breasts through the thin fabric of her robe.
Her body tensed again, and she shut her eyes. It was almost as though present pleasure and past pain were fighting a war within her for dominance.
He looked down at her tight, closed expression. “Open your eyes,” he whispered. “I want you to know who’s touching you. I want you to see how it makes me feel.”
She obeyed, and almost drowned in the passion that smoldered in the ebony depths of his eyes. Passion alone might not have swayed her, but in that timeless moment she knew how much he cared. It was written on his soul for her to see.
When his fingers stroked upward to caress the sides of her breasts she found herself responding. He sensed the shattering of another barrier. With light strokes he began to circle inward toward her nipples. When he felt them harden under his fingers, his breath caught in his throat.
“Mark, oh, Mark.”
He murmured little endearments and words of praise in her ear, and this time when his fingers sought the buttons of her robe, she didn’t resist. He didn’t hurry with the fastenings; instead, as he slid each one open, he cherished her with his lips and hands. When he had helped her out of the robe, he continued to stroke and caress her—sliding his fingers along the flat plane of her abdomen, tracing the gentle curve of her hip, the silky flesh of her inner thigh. He sensed her body quickening to his touch.
“Ah, Eden.” The words escaped his lips on a sigh.
“That feels so good.”
They had unlocked another door. She found that she could let him increase the intimacy of the caress. Now she was actually arching into the pleasure of his stroking fingers.
He felt her body’s readiness. He didn’t know what mental impediments might still make the final step impossible for her. “Are you ready to feel me inside you?” he questioned, his voice husky with his own yearning for her.
Was she? She couldn’t suppress a little shiver of fear at the thought of what that total vulnerability would mean. She looked into his eyes again, seeing the smoldering desire there. Through his briefs she could feel the heat and hardness of him pressed against her. It was obvious how much he wanted her. Yet she knew he would never impose himself upon her. All this time he had been thinking only of her—of soothing away her hurt and giving her pleasure.
“It’s all right,” he whispered, his cheek caressing hers. “If you can’t go any farther now, I’ll understand.”
More than anything, she wanted to give something back to him, not just take. She had loved him for such a long time, but that emotion had never brought her any lasting happiness. She didn’t know what the future would hold for Mark and herself, or even if they had any future together. But though she couldn’t burden him with her love, she could warm him with it for this short time that they had together. Her arms came up to encircle his waist and clasp him tightly against her. “Please, yes, now.”
“Eden, love.”
After a moment, he drew back so that he could slip out of his briefs. Then he was holding her body softly to the taut length of his.
“You’re still frightened, aren’t you?”
“Only a little.”
“We can still stop.”
She didn’t answer him with words. Instead she parted her thighs and reached down to clasp and stroke him with her hand.
She heard his exclamation of pleasure and satisfaction, even as she guided him to her. Then he was inside her, filling her, and she knew it was going to be all right—more than all right.
He smiled down at her. “Eden, you feel so warm and welcoming.”
“Because it’s you.”
Tenderness for her welled up inside him. He wanted at that moment to tell her how much he loved her. Yet he knew he still wasn’t free to speak those words—not with the uncertainty he faced. But if he couldn’t tell her how he felt, he could show her.
Slowly he began to move inside her, each stroke an endearment he couldn’t confess. Each motion heightened all his senses, and her little moans of pleasure were like an aphrodisiac. The effort to hold himself back and wait for her to reach the edge of readiness was almost impossible. But somehow he managed it, and the reward was worth the self-denial.
She arched against him, even as he felt her first shudders of gratification. His lips sought hers, drinking in her cries of ecstasy. And all at once she was pulling him over the edge to join her in a rapture of pure sensation.
Eden clung to him, feeling the storm sweep over her. The physical intensity was overwhelming, but there was more, too. When she had told Mark she was afraid, she hadn’t been able to tell him what she dreaded most—that she would be incapable of responding completely, even to the man she loved most in the world. But now, together, they had swept away her doubts.
The crest of the high wave had passed, but they each strove to catch the after-ripples of delight. Eden sighed his name as his lips nibbled her cheeks and forehead.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“My pleasure.”
They clung together, neither one of them willing to break apart. There were still too many things they couldn’t express in any other way. Shadows loomed beyond the circle of light from the bedside lamp. Shadows that wouldn’t vanish with daybreak, because they weren’t just in this room alone. They were ominous charcoal streaks across the face of the world. Destiny beckoned—no, commanded—Mark’s presence halfway across the world. And the only thing Eden knew for sure at this moment was that she wasn’t going to let him go alone.
Chapter Twelve
C
onstance McGuire set down the tray of fresh fruit, croissants and coffee on the glass-topped table in the solarium. Once again, they would have to combine the amenities of breakfast in this warm and tropical setting with the necessity of doing business.
She glanced over at Eden and Mark, who were sitting close together at the other side of the table. She could still see the effects of their recent experiences. Yet this morning there was a noticeable difference that gave her a certain maternal satisfaction. All of yesterday she had felt the raw edge of tension every time they had been in the same room.
Their estrangement hadn’t been quite so apparent when they’d first arrived. Eden hadn’t been capable of much emotion. She had been close to exhaustion and functioning on a very basic level. But as she had begun to reach out to Mark, for her sake as much as his own, he had shut her off—purposefully avoided her.
From the intimacy of the warm looks they slanted each other this morning, she could see that something had definitely changed for the better. Connie felt certain it was something that Eden had initiated. Mark was too stubborn to bridge the gap himself. She knew that men in the Intelligence business were an independent breed, used to going it alone. The last eight months could only have confirmed the wisdom of that philosophy for Col. Mark Bradley. It would take a strong woman to make him change his mind. But it seemed that Eden Sommers might be such a woman.
The door opened and they all looked up as the tap of a cane on the slate floor announced the Falcon’s entrance. Michael Rome was right behind him. Connie knew they’d been going over some of the strategy for the afternoon’s departure.
Cicero flapped to his master’s shoulder, and the Falcon paused to offer him a cracker.
To the casual observer Amherst Gordon might look like a rich eccentric without a care in the world. But Connie could read the worry lines in his face. Project Orion was a problem. But it wasn’t the only thing on her boss’s mind. He was directing half a dozen worldwide operations, and not all of them were running smoothly. The situation in Madrid, for example, was also becoming critical. While the chief of the Peregrine Connection was arranging to slip Mark and Eden into Europe, he was also working on contingency plans to smuggle out another operative code-named the Raven.
Yet as Amherst Gordon sat down at the table, he permitted himself the small luxury of not getting right to business.
He let them wait while he stirred cream into his coffee and buttered a croissant. It gave him a certain gratification to know that he had the complete attention of everyone else in the room. In fact, they seemed fascinated by the action of his butter knife.
He finally relented. “I think I’ll let Michael tell you the latest,” he said.
Rome straightened in his chair. He looked around the table, his eyes settling for a moment on Eden.
She gave him a quick smile. Yesterday, when Mark had begun to avoid her, their rescuer had tried to compensate by making her feel included. He’d even sought her out and tried to reassure her. It turned out he’d been through a particularly bad time on one of his assignments and could empathize with Mark’s withdrawal. He told her how difficult it had been to get back to something approaching normal—but he’d finally done it. He was confident Mark could, too. Yesterday she wasn’t sure she agreed. Now she was beginning to hope it might be true.
He began the briefing. “As you probably know, your little swim has instituted a very quiet East Coast manhunt.”
“Actually, I’ve been waiting for someone to shoot a hole through the No Vacancy sign hanging out by the road,” Mark quipped.
But Eden caught the underlying tension in his voice. Below the table she reached out and captured his hand. Last night she had been so wrapped up with her own problems that she hadn’t fully understood what she was asking of him. Now she realized that when she had needed him, he had put his own anxieties on hold.
“No one’s coming here,” Gordon said. “But if we don’t move fast, I couldn’t get you across an airport concourse even if I shaved your head and put you in a saffron-colored robe.”
Mark laughed. “So what are your plans for getting me to Berlin?” he asked.
“You mean us,” Eden corrected.
Mark opened his mouth to protest. But the Falcon didn’t give him a chance. “She’s right. This operation necessarily includes the two of you.”
“I don’t want Eden involved in this any further,” Mark snapped. “Michael and I have worked together before. Can’t you send him to nursemaid me?”
She heard the self-derision in his voice. Evidently the simple fact that he couldn’t be trusted on his own was almost unbearable.
“Mark, let’s be realistic,” Gordon answered. “I know you’re anxious to even the score. But you may be your own worst enemy, and Michael isn’t trained to deal with that.”
She heard Mark curse under his breath.
“We don’t have time to argue about it,” Gordon continued. “If I don’t send Eden with you, I don’t send you at all. And if I don’t send you, we know what the consequences are.”
As the two men stared at each other, Eden was reminded of wrestlers sizing each other up, each looking for a point of weakness to press his own advantage. But in this situation, Mark was smart enough to recognize that the Falcon had fixed the match. The only way he could win was by cooperating.
“All right,” he conceded reluctantly. “Just what do you have in mind?”
“We’re getting you through airport security as part of a bank director’s tour of Ireland.”
“Ireland!”
“Nobody’s going to think to look for you there. It’s the far northwestern corner of Europe. But that makes it a great staging ground. You’ll leave the tour in Shannon and be taken to a safe house somewhere in Connemara, where your closest neighbors will be sheep and donkeys. Eden is going to continue your therapy sessions there.”
God knows, you need it,
he thought to himself. The riskiest part of this whole operation, as far as he was concerned, was sending Mark off without knowing just how dangerous he was to himself—or other people. Unfortunately, the time factor was too critical to arrange other plans. Eden didn’t know it yet, but he was prepared to scrub the mission up until the moment they left for Berlin, if Mark was unable to keep himself from helping the enemy.
They went on to discuss more details, then separated for final preparations. Appearances had to be altered and scars hidden before their passport photos were taken and the actual documents forged.
But the Falcon had even more pressing reasons for separating Mark and Eden. He wanted to give her additional instructions and make damn sure she understood her role in all this. Misrepresenting Mark’s condition on her Pine Island reports was one thing—he understood why she’d done it. But turning a blind eye to even the tiniest of the colonel’s German-precision-manufactured defects could be fatal.
* * *
C
ONSTANCE
M
C
G
UIRE
handled the details of their departure in her usual efficient manner. In the Aviary’s underground complex, Eden began to get a better idea of just how well equipped the Peregrine Connection really was. In the basement under the mansion were labs set up to do everything from manufacturing instant passports to altering equipment like the manicure kit she’d taken to Pine Island. Staff was on call on an as-needed basis, and the wardrobe inventory was enough to supply a men’s and women’s specialty shop.